Having washed the sweat and dirt of practice off, and dressed in a fresh tunic and trews, Boromir felt significantly more human--and more exhausted. All he wanted to do was fall into a nice, soft bed and sleep until he wished to wake up--not until he had to wake, but until he wished to. Who would have thought sparring with Elves would be worse than sparring with his men?
As he opened the door to the rooms Elrond had given him, all thoughts of sleep fled. Aragorn sprawled across the one comfortable chair in the room, a book open across his lap.
"I hope my foster-brothers have not tired you overmuch," Aragorn purred. "I had a mind to try something... vigorous this evening." And that was when Boromir realized that it was *that* book.
He gulped. "Vigorous?"
"Mmm," Aragorn replied. "I think number forty-seven should serve us both well."
Boromir racked his brain--forty-seven--ah yes, he had done that one. But he wouldn't exactly call it vigorous. Curious now, he inched closer to read, glad he'd perfected the art of reading upside-down. Forty-seven... oh. Oh my. That was indeed vigorous--one might even say dangerous! He glanced up at Aragorn, sure his eyes were wide.
Aragorn grinned. "Elves are notoriously more athletic than Men... this is *their* version. I have faith in you, Boromir. Together, we can take on this challenge."
Smiling weakly, and taking Aragorn's proffered hand, Boromir could only hope that his strength--and his tongue--would hold out.
Summary: Elves are *very* inventive... as Boromir, by way of Aragorn, is about to discover.
Rated: PG
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 247 Read: 1184
Published: 06 Aug 2009 Updated: 06 Aug 2009